


Care for a Waffle, Agent?

by LipstickAndWhiskey (CopperMarigolds)



Category: Supernatural
Genre: F/M, Sam to the Rescue, reader just wants to eat her waffles
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-03
Updated: 2016-10-03
Packaged: 2018-08-19 08:41:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,194
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8198644
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CopperMarigolds/pseuds/LipstickAndWhiskey
Summary: You just wants to eat your waffles, damn it.





	

You sat in the diner, yawning away at the early hour. You couldn’t believe how you managed to end up on another case right after hunting that wendigo in Minnesota, barely a break in between.

The old red vinyl seat creaked as you settled in the booth, looking through the small menu. Your eye was drawn to the ‘pig ‘n a poke’ special, but you were on a mission. Waffles. You were going to have a cheat day and you wanted the biggest stack of waffles you could eat. You deserved it after that wendigo clawed the hell out of your leg.

The waitress came up to you, plonking down a mug before filling it with coffee, your order as you walked in.

The bell over the door rang, a tall drink of water waltzing in and taking a seat at the counter. He was at least 6 feet tall, dressed nicely in a clean-cut suit. What caught your attention though, was the length of his hair. It was long enough that it started to curl at the ends, a cute flick that touched the edges of his collar.

“Honey, what would you like?” your waitress asked, apparently repeating herself multiple times. You smiled in apology before ordering “a buttload of waffles”. Luckily she laughed, claiming she’d keep them coming until you’d had enough.

It was when you were face first into your first waffle, the generous amount of whipped cream smearing over your nose, that a man sat down in the seat across from you. He was good-looking, black hair and brown eyes that you’d normally melt at, but your focus was entirely on your waffles. He was incredibly presumptuous, sitting down without asking, smiling at you as you continued eating your waffles.

“Hi there. My name’s Dave. How about you?” he asked, stretching out a hand to shake across the formica table. You glanced at his hand, ignoring him in the hopes that he’d just leave. You just wanted to eat your waffles in peace, none too interested in the man’s company. Apparently  _‘Dave’_ was undeterred, retracting his hand before rattling on about the weather or some other trite topic. You’d tried just eating, ignoring the way he went on and on, but after about the fourth or fifth waffle (you honestly lost count) you’d had enough.

“Hey, man. I applaud your tenacity, but I’m really not interested. I’d just like to sit and eat alone, if you please.” You hoped you’d come across stern but gentle in your letdown, hoping that that’d be the end of it.

_No such luck._

“You aren’t interested? Sweetheart, everyone’s interested. Nobody turns me down.” His face was slowly turning an almost comical shade of red, incredulous that he’d managed to strike out with you.

“Well I just did. Now if I could just eat my waffles in peace,” you said, turning your attention back to your waffles.

He banged his hand on the table, drawing the attention of the diner as the items on the table rattled against the tabletop. Mr. Tall drink was mid-sip as he turned his attention to _whatshisface_ who started loudly harassing you, uncaring about the diner patrons who stared at him.

Your attention was on the jerkface in front of you who was loudly declaring how flattered you should be that he picked you and how he lowered his standards to talk to you. That you weren’t worth his time.

_What a load of bullsh-_

Mr. Tall and Handsome came over, placing a large hand over one of the guy’s flailing arms, his grip firm. “Hey buddy. I think you should leave the pretty girl alone. She said no, so just move on.”

“Oh yeah, what are you gonna do about it?” he challenged, still fuming over the rejection.

He reached into his pocket, hand still on the guy as he pulled out a badge, flashing it in his face. “This change your mind?” he asked, the fight draining right out of whatshisface. He let go of the guy, letting him skitter away with his tail between his legs.

Mr. Tall drink turned to you, an apologetic smile on his face, dimples framing the corners of his mouth. _Well hello there._

“I hope he didn’t ruin your breakfast. Are you okay?” Much better now that you’re here, you thought briefly. Though, something was nagging at you. Something familiar in the way he carried himself. Well, there was one way to find out for sure.

You smiled amicably, oozing charm. “I’m fine, thank you. Though I think you better have a seat to make sure no one else bothers me,” you said, gesturing to the now-open seat.

His smile cranked up, like a champagne supernova washing over you. “It’d be my pleasure,” he said, sitting on the bench across from you. His great height dwarfed the seat, his long legs brushing yours under the table. His legs framed yours, seeking as much room as he could in the cramped space.

You went back to consuming an absurd amount of waffles, the man across from you apparently incredibly amused by the fact. You wiped daintily at the corners of your mouth, a stark contrast to the way you devoured your breakfast, more for comedic effect.

“You know, I didn’t get your name. Or what kind of badge you flashed that jerk earlier.” You sipped at your coffee as his brows rose, amusement coloring his features. He reached into his breastpocket, pulling out his badge again, flipping it open in front of you.

You wiped the sticky sweet whipped cream from your hands, taking the proffered badge and looking at the name. _Agent Dave Grohl_. Looking closely at the id, you could tell it was a fake. You’d made plenty of them before, and you could tell it was actually a really good fake at that. You folded it and smiled at _Agent Grohl_ , handing it back to him.

“Well Agent Grohl, thank you,” you said, pulling out your own folded piece of leather, “I think you’ll like mine too.” You hinged open your own FBI badge, watching his face flicker into surprise. His eyes rose back to you, a sly smile gracing your face.

“I think it’s a vengeful spirit,” you said guessing that he was a hunter too, “and two brains are better than one. Whaddya say? Teamwork?”  
He gaped at you a little, mouth opening and closing like a fish. You waited patiently until he finally huffed out a laugh, a bright grin on his face that dimpled at the corners. He leaned in close over the table, whispering conspiratorially. _“You’re a hunter?”_

You nodded, leaning in too. “I’m also a fan of waffles,” you said, leaning back as the waitress set more waffles in front of you.

“More sweetie?” she asked, eyeing you and wondering where you put all those waffles she’d been bringing you.

You looked back at him. “Would you like some waffles too…”

“-Sam.”

“Sam, would you like some?” He looked at you, incredulous.

“…sure.”

You beamed at him, looking back at the waitress and reading her nametag.

“Paloma, we’re going to need more waffles here.”


End file.
